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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391286">Where You Invest Your Love, You Invest Your Life</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/polaroid15/pseuds/polaroid15'>polaroid15</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Adoption, Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Dead May Parker (Spider-Man), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Found Family, Gen, Gunshot Wounds, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Protective Tony Stark, Recovery, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:00:41</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,669</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28391286</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/polaroid15/pseuds/polaroid15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Turns out, even the most broken things can be mended. </p><p>Or, following tragedy, Tony and Peter learn how to be a family.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Happy Hogan &amp; Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker &amp; Tony Stark</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>286</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Where You Invest Your Love, You Invest Your Life</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>HELLO ALL!! I hope you had a wonderful holiday season :) This fic came straight from the heart, I really hope you enjoy &lt;3<br/>Fic title comes from Mumford and Son's song 'Awake my soul' -- In these bodies we will live, in these bodies we will die. Where you invest your love, you invest your life.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>   Tony receives the call at 11:15 on a Wednesday. </p><p>   It’s from Peter. A silly picture of the kid pops up on Tony’s screen and just like clockwork it pulls him away from the project in his hands. It’s unusual for Peter to call this late and a slight ripple of worry plants a seed in the pit of his stomach. Trying to ignore it, he answers quickly.</p><p>   “Hey underoos. Homework troubles?” </p><p>   For a long moment, there’s only silence. So long, that Tony is up from his seat and reaching for his suit before his brain fully processes what he’s doing. His mind races as it sorts through the millions of possible precarious situations the Parker boy has landed himself in this time. Kidnapping? Bleeding out? Concussion?</p><p>   “Pete?” </p><p>   Usually when Peter calls, the kid talks his ear off, youthful enthusiasm getting the best of him even in his stickiest situations. <em>Literally</em>. </p><p>   Tonight is different. </p><p>   “T-tony.” </p><p>   A sudden chill enters Tony’s veins and he freezes where he stands. “Hey, kiddo. Is something wrong?” </p><p>   A strange sound, half laugh half sob, travels through the phone and sticks a knife into Tony’s heart. The noise breaks off into short, laboured breaths. “C-can, can you help me?” </p><p>   “Yes. Yes I’m coming right now,” Tony assures as the suit closes around him. “I’m on my way. Are you hurt?” </p><p>   “No.” </p><p>   “Okay, good. But I’ll be the judge of that. Just stay on the line, spider-kid.” </p><p>   He’s in the air for eleven minutes. After a while Peter doesn’t respond no matter how many questions Tony asks, but true to his promise, he doesn’t hang up the phone. </p><p>   He finds Peter sitting on the end of a crane 260 feet up in the air. </p><p>   The height is dizzying, but Peter looks unfazed. He’s still as death, feet dangling loosely above millions of shining lights. His head is bowed. Tony can’t see his face.</p><p>   “Peter?” Tony flies in front of the kid. He can see Peter in his entirety now, and for a reason Tony can’t explain, tears spring up and sting at his eyes. If his suit didn’t have more common sense then he did, he would have dropped right out of the sky. </p><p>   Peter is covered in blood. It’s caked on his hands, travelling halfway up his forearms and staining some stupid pun on his tshirt. It’s under his nails and smeared on his face. </p><p>   <em>He’s not in his suit</em>. </p><p>   “Kid-” Tony gapes breathlessly as Peter stares up at him blankly. His young face is red and blotchy, and from the city lights stretched far down below Tony can see his cheeks are streaked with tears. “You said you weren’t hurt!” </p><p>   At this, Peter’s bottom lip trembles violently and he bites it until it bleeds. There’s something clenched so tightly in Peter’s bloodstained hand that his knuckles are white. </p><p>   “Pete, you’re scaring me. You gotta tell me what’s wrong.” </p><p>   Perhaps despite himself, a sharp sob escapes Peter’s mouth. He hunches over himself and Tony catches him at his shoulders. “Tell me where you’re hurt.” </p><p>   “It’s not my blood.” </p><p>   Peter’s voice is empty and cold. Tony lifts open his faceplate and stares deeply into Peter’s eyes, but somewhere there’s a disconnect. Slowly, Peter uncurls his fingers from the object he’s been so desperately holding and Tony breaks their eye contact to look. </p><p>   Amongst the red, a flash of gold and translucent glass. A pair of glasses. They belong to May. </p><p>   All the air leaves Tony’s chest in one fatal blow. The noise from the city and the cold from their height disappears in an instant. All he can see is Peter’s face, something deep and foreign filling Tony’s chest like a flash flood. </p><p>   “Oh. Peter-” </p><p>   Tony isn’t sure who initiates it, but in the next second they’re hugging fiercely. Peter grips him so tightly that if he weren’t wearing his armour he’d be broken. Peter is shaking against him, and only after a second can he decipher through the sudden static in his ears that Peter is <em>sobbing</em>. </p><p>   He’s not sure how long they stay there. An eternity, maybe. It doesn’t matter. </p><p>   They’re family now. </p><p>---</p><p>   The first few days are really hard. </p><p>   Peter lays in bed but he doesn’t sleep. He barely eats. He stares sightlessly and cries. He never lets go of May’s glasses. </p><p>   After the funeral, it gets better. Peter leaves his room and sits at the table and smiles, even if it doesn’t reach his eyes. He watches movies with Tony but he doesn’t laugh at the jokes. He walks like a zombie and bumps into things and shakes like a leaf but always affirms he’s okay. </p><p>   Around four in the morning each night, Peter wakes up screaming. </p><p>   It becomes a twisted ritual. Tony sets his alarm for 3:55. He stares up at the dark ceiling and prays it doesn’t happen, but it always does. He races to Peter’s room and holds him tightly to prevent the boy from hurting himself and coaches him again and again how to breathe. Tony wipes away tears and talks until his voice is raw. </p><p>   Three full days go by and Peter doesn’t wake up screaming. Tony thinks it’s getting better, that the cycle might be broken. Then he finds Peter slumped against a cabinet in the kitchen and finds out he hasn’t slept at all in the last 72 hours, reduced to nothing short of delirious, shaky, and panicked. They agree to a light sedative and Peter regains the color in his face twelve hours later. </p><p>   Eventually, Peter agrees to talk to some professionals. It helps, but Tony still sets his alarm. Each night he stares up at his dark ceiling, hears nothing, and falls back asleep.  </p><p>   One night Peter drops a glass in the kitchen and bursts into tears. Tony helps him clean up the mess. Peter doesn’t talk for the rest of the night. The next morning, he asks if Tony wants him to leave. Tony says that he wants nothing more than for Peter to stay. </p><p>   He does. </p><p>   It’s a long road ahead of them, but they’re in it together. </p><p>---</p><p>   It’s been two months and seventeen days. </p><p>   Tony stands at the stove, stifling a yawn as he pokes at the eggs on the pan in front of him with a lazy half interest. His eyelids drop. </p><p>   “Tony?” </p><p>   Jumping, Tony jerks back from the pan and yells when he sees his eggs in smoke. He slides the pan away from the heat and wafts his hand over the wreckage, swearing like a sailor. </p><p>   There’s a soft laugh, and Tony counts it as a win. Peter is looking over at him incredulously with his backpack slung haphazardly on the edge of his shoulder. “Nice eggs.” </p><p>   For a minute, Tony just blinks at the statement. “Excuse me?” </p><p>   “I said <em>nice eggs</em>,” Peter repeats, slowing down his words dramatically, still smiling.</p><p>   “Hey, cut the sass kiddo. These were for you.” </p><p>   Peter shakes his head, backing away from the charred remains. “Uh, spiders don’t eat eggs Mr. Stark. Strictly off limits.” </p><p>   Tony throws down the spatula in defeat. “You had eggs <em>yesterday!</em>” </p><p>   Still smirking, Peter shakes his head and continues his backpedal towards the door. “Gonna be late for school. Better get going-” </p><p>   “Nope. No. You’re not skipping breakfast, kid.” Tony looks around the kitchen aimlessly before closing his hand around a peanut butter protein bar and throwing it at Peter’s still retreating form. The boy catches it easily, and stares at it with raised eyebrows. </p><p>   “What?” </p><p>   Peter opens his mouth, closes it, and then simply nods in appreciation. There’s an odd expression on the kid’s face that he can’t exactly pinpoint. Before Tony can psychoanalyze too much farther, Peter tucks the bar into the mesh pocket of his backpack and leaves with a warm thanks. Tony watches him go. </p><p>   He throws away the eggs. </p><p>---</p><p>   Later that night Tony wakes up in the lab to FRIDAY’S soft alert. There’s a paper sticking to his cheek and he rips it off hastily and rises on unsteady legs, heading up towards Peter’s room. He finds the kid sitting on the edge of his bed, eyes unfocused and blood in his hair. </p><p>   For a minute, Tony just stands in the doorway. Peter is quiet. There’s an odd tension in the room, built up from weeks of Peter coming home hurt. He’s reckless now. It shows in his scars. </p><p>   “Hey T’ny.” Peter attempts a smile but it stretches the deep cut in his lip and it bleeds. Tony walks over and it feels like his feet are trapped in cement. The mattress bends as he sits beside the young hero. </p><p>   “What happened?” </p><p>   Peter wipes the blood off his chin. “Nothing. The usual.” </p><p>   “Stop with the bullshit. You never got beat up this badly before-” Tony breaks off in a choke. He doesn’t look Peter in the eyes. </p><p>   “Before <em>what?</em>” Peter’s voice is sharp, daring Tony to say what he already knows. “I’m fine. Occupational hazard and all that.” </p><p>   Something snaps. Tony looks up at Peter and when their eyes connect, Peter flinches. “Screw that. You and I both know damn well you’re getting roughed up like this on purpose. It stops now. Do you understand?” </p><p>   Fire races in Peter’s eyes and he crosses his arms across his chest like a goddamn five year old. “No. Look, I’ll be fine in the morning! It’s not my fault you wait for me to come home every night like my d-” Peter breaks off, the word dying on his tongue as Tony feels his stomach plummet. Not waiting for Tony’s reaction, Peter pushes himself unsteadily from the bed to limp towards the bathroom. “I’m getting in the shower. Stop worrying about me.” </p><p>   The door closes and the lingering worry in Tony’s chest sits heavy. He hears Peter crying through the running water. He sits and sits and waits. </p><p>---</p><p>   The meeting had been long and exceptionally boring. Now, Tony is rewarded with an annoying ache in the base of his skull and a sharp pain behind his eyes. He walks into the kitchen and sees Happy and Peter sitting across from each other at the table playing checkers. Happy is winning. By a lot. </p><p>   Tony opens the fridge then closes it. He looks swiftly at the clock and frowns. “Hey it’s only 1:00. What are you doing home from school?” </p><p>   Peter flinches and hangs his head low as if to hide behind Happy. The glass of orange juice in his hand shifts. “Would you believe me if I said it was an early weekend?” </p><p>   “No. It’s Tuesday.” </p><p>   Peter sighs. He moves a checker but Happy doesn’t reciprocate, looking at Tony with wide eyes. Something’s up. </p><p>   “Look,” Peter continues in exasperation. “It’s not a big deal. I just wasn’t feeling that good and they made me come home okay?” </p><p>   Tony studies the boy, taking in his thinning frame and the dark shadows under his eyes. Call it his new paternal instincts, but it just doesn’t sit right. “Why didn’t they call me? I’m your emergency contact.” </p><p>   “You were in a meeting. I told them to call Happy.” </p><p>   “It doesn’t matter Peter. You know I would’ve come-” </p><p>   “I had it handled boss,” Happy interjects, raising his eyebrows significantly. There’s still something they’re not telling him. Something dark flickers in the pit of his stomach and the pain in his head increases until he has to dig his nails into the skin on his palm to distract himself. </p><p>   “Well, what’s wrong? Do you need Cho?” </p><p>   “N-no,” Peter stutters. He swirls his juice and doesn’t look at him. “I’m fine. Just was a little nauseous.” </p><p>   “He fainted in biology.” </p><p>   Peter jerks at Happy’s words, spilling his juice on the checkerboard. He looks up at Tony timidly and if Tony didn’t have such a bad goddamn headache already, he would’ve been yelling. </p><p>   “<em>What?</em> Why?” </p><p>   “Happy!” The betrayal in Peter’s voice is evident. Tony sees the boy’s chest rising and falling rapidly as he pushes himself to his feet. </p><p>   Of course, the kid’s Parker pride prohibits him from speaking. Happy does it for him. “Didn’t eat enough. Blood sugar dropped and so did he.” </p><p>   Tony’s expression must extend past anger because Peter's deep breaths are audible now. He stumbles away from the table and races out of the room on shaking legs, leaving their unfinished game behind. </p><p>   Tony and Happy stand in an uncomfortable silence, letting him go. After a beat, Happy breaks it. “He just didn’t want to disappoint you.” </p><p>   A flash of anger rips through his chest like an arrow, but it fades just as fast. “Jesus. Never.” At Happy’s questioning look, he adds “I’m just so goddamn worried about him.” </p><p>   Happy hums in agreement, looking somber. May’s death had been hard on him, too. On all of them. “He’s been through a lot. Give him time.” </p><p>   “I just don’t know how to help him Hap.” </p><p>   Happy shuffles over to him and places a heavy hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry. You are.” </p><p>---</p><p>   A couple more weeks pass. Peter fills out again. He smiles more. He doesn’t miss school and he aces all his tests. Tony thinks they’re approaching a new normal. </p><p>   As usual, he’s wrong. </p><p>   It’s late and Tony walks past the kid’s door, noticing a light shining out through the cracks between the frames. Curious more than anything, he stops and knocks softly. When there’s no answer, he pushes it open and steps inside. </p><p>   Peter is slumped over his desk and snoring softly. His right hand is resting against the dark wood and holding a vibrant red marker, as if he’d fallen asleep writing. Tony inches forward with bare feet, trying to justify his snooping on his journey across the room. It’s unsuccessful, and when his eyes reach what Peter’s been working on his breath catches in his chest and stays there. </p><p>   Dozens of papers and news articles stretch out under the kid’s sleeping form. All the headlines are the same, tunneling back to May’s murder. Words like <em>tragic, orphan, </em>and <em>suspect </em>jump out in the sea of swirling black and grey. The group that had jumped Peter and May that night were never found. No leads had come up since. By the looks of it, Peter has been turning over every stone. </p><p>   His heart aches. He lets it be. </p><p>   Before he leaves he grabs a blanket off Peter’s bed and wraps it over the boy’s shoulders. He shifts in his sleep, but his eyes stay closed. </p><p>   Tony tosses and turns the rest of the night. </p><p>---</p><p>   Another week comes and goes. Tony doesn’t bring up the news articles. He should. </p><p>   Peter brings Ned over for a movie. Tony is nearby and hears them as they laugh. When the movie ends, they talk in hushed tones and then Tony can hear it when they cry, too. Ned stays the night and eats Tony’s burnt eggs with a smile the next morning. The two boys share a complicated handshake as Ned leaves, and Peter spends the rest of the day in his room. </p><p>   Hours pass. Happy helps him make spaghetti for dinner. They scoop it into three heaping bowls. </p><p>   “FRI, tell Peter dinner’s ready.” </p><p>   “Mr. Parker is not in the tower.” </p><p>   Tony freezes in the middle of pulling out cutlery. He notices Happy studying him out of the corner of his eye. </p><p>   “Well where is he?” </p><p>   There’s a short pause. “He is currently at Queen’s cemetery.” </p><p>   Tony drops the cutlery back in the drawer and flinches at the sound it makes. His throat tightens. “Oh. Is- is he okay?” </p><p>   A longer pause. “Mr. Parker is experiencing acute signs of distress. He also has multiple contusions, two broken ribs, and a stab wound in his lower abdomen.” </p><p>   Happy chokes and Tony’s vision tilts. “<em>What?</em> FRIDAY what the hell? Why didn’t you tell me.”  </p><p>   The AI’s mechanical voice rings out with innocence. “Mr. Parker asked me not to. Though painful, none of his injuries are life threatening.” </p><p>   “Asked you to-” Tony breathes in deeply through his nose, holds it tight in his chest, and releases it slowly. Within three minutes he’s in a suit and Happy follows him on the ground. The journey is a blur, the stars above covered in dark clouds. When Tony touches the ground he falls out of the suit into the chill and stands still. </p><p>   Peter is sitting in the dirt. He has a hand pressed into his side and another curled around the grass. In front of him lie four tombstones, each one sharing his name. </p><p>   Heart breaking further with each step, Tony walks until he stands beside the boy. If he notices Tony, he doesn’t acknowledge it, and Tony sits down cross legged beside him. For a long time neither of them speaks. Tony stares at the headstones until the words are burned into his eyelids. </p><p>   Peter shakes and it makes him cry out. Tony can see his hands, how they’re stained in red just like the night May had died. Except this time, the blood is his own. Upon closer inspection Tony can see tears on Peter’s face. He wonders how long he’s been crying. </p><p>   Being cautious, Tony shifts closer to the boy’s side and pulls him into a half hug, helping Peter apply pressure to the sluggishly bleeding wound in the process. Peter blinks at the gesture, stiffening at first, then loses his resolve and melts against his mentor. </p><p>   “I found them,” Peter reveals, voice light and airy. </p><p>   Tony tries not to move. He leans his cheek into Peter’s hair. “Found who?” </p><p>   “The guys who killed May. They call themselves the Vipers. I tracked them down but when it came down to it I froze. I just couldn’t-” Peter pauses to catch his breath. “They stabbed me just like they stabbed her. It was so hard to move and it felt like I was drowning. They- they got away.” </p><p>   Tony feels his bottom lip quiver dangerously and he swallows down the tightness in his throat. When he speaks, his words are fractured like broken glass. “You should’ve told me, kiddo. I would’ve helped you.” </p><p>   Peter sighs as if it had been the answer he had been expecting. He straightens up and only barely catches himself when he loses his balance and lists to the side. Through half lidded eyes, he studies each grave and another tear drips off his chin.</p><p>   “I just can’t believe they’re all gone,” he whispers, voice haggard. “I’m- I’m the only one left. <em>God. </em>I’ve been sitting here for <em>hours </em>trying to figure it out. Did- did I do something wrong?” </p><p>   “No,” Tony says immediately, tightening his grip on the boy. He tries to keep his voice steady. “You’ve done nothing wrong Peter, I promise you. Okay?” </p><p>   “What if something bad happens again? If it’s you or Happy or Pepper or Ned. I would never be able to forgive myself.” </p><p>   “Hey,” Tony says softly. He sacrifices the pressure of his hands on Peter’s wound to turn his face towards him, leaving two red fingerprints on his jaw. “Nothing bad’s going to happen, Pete. I promise. We’re all okay.” </p><p>   “Ben used- used to tell me that with great power comes g-great responsibility. What if I’m just not good enough?” </p><p>   “You <em>are </em>good enough, you hear me? You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to this goddamn world. Sometimes bad things just happen. It’s what we do with the aftermath that matters. You hear me?”</p><p>   Peter’s eyes well with tears. Before he can respond, gravel crunches behind them and twin beams of light fall onto them, casting their shadows across the cemetery. Happy practically leaps out of the car, eyes wide and spiked with concern. Together, he and Tony help Peter to his feet. </p><p>   Once he’s vertical the last bit of color in his face drains away and his eyes roll up in his head. Tony swears and Happy yells. They catch him easily and fit him snugly into the backseat, head on Tony’s lap. </p><p>   The young hero drifts back to consciousness by the time they get back to the Tower, but he can barely walk. They manage to make their way up to medbay and Peter checks out again when they give him stitches. Thirty minutes after Tony finishes knotting the string, Peter blinks awake and tells him he’s okay, though it doesn’t convince either of them. Together they walk to Peter’s room and he collapses into bed and is asleep again within seconds. Tony drags his feet to his own and falls against the covers, rubbing tears out of his eyes with the heels of his hands. </p><p>   He’s not sure when he falls asleep, but a sliver of light makes him open his eyes. Fighting through his confusion, Tony squints against the pale glow in his doorway and sees Peter standing hesitantly in between the hall and his room, gripping at his banadaged abdomen tightly. </p><p>   “Peter?” Tony props himself on his elbows. “Is your side hurting?” </p><p>   For a moment, Tony thinks the boy will turn and leave, but he shakes his head slowly and stays. He’s shifting his weight between his feet like he’s nervous, and won’t look Tony in the eyes. </p><p>   “Nightmare?” </p><p>   This time, Peter doesn’t nod or shake his head. Instead, he shrugs.</p><p>   Tony shifts over and pats the space beside him. “C’mere kid.” </p><p>   Expression shifting into something Tony can’t read, Peter shuffles into the room and crawls in beside Tony. Even in the dark Tony can see the tension drain away from Peter’s body and it makes his chest warm. </p><p>   Tony closes his eyes. “Goodnight kiddo.” </p><p>   He freezes as he feels Peter’s body press against his own. The boy is curled up against his side. “G’night Tony.” </p><p>   When the kid’s breathing evens out, Tony relaxes too. He drops his hand into Peter’s hair and smiles genuinely for the first time in weeks. In this moment of silence, Tony feels a sudden rush of clarity. A spark rushes through his whole body so suddenly that he can feel electricity in his toes. Tears spring into his eyes. He doesn’t know why he didn’t see it sooner. </p><p>   They’re family, after all. </p><p>   He’s going to ask Peter if he would like to be adopted. </p><p>---</p><p>   It all goes south on a Tuesday. Peter has just come home from school and Tony is scribbling down equations in his phone for a new spidey-suit prototype. In the background, the news is on, but it’s distant static. </p><p>   “Hey underoos. How was school?” </p><p>   “It was fine.” Peter slings off his backpack and walks to the fridge. His eyes brighten when it opens. “Woah! Did Happy make punch?” </p><p>   Distracted, Tony pauses his equation and looks up. “Yeah. Lots of sugar. Not that you need it.” </p><p>   “Awesome.” Peter busies himself in pouring himself a glass as Tony watches. Tonight’s the night. After dinner, Tony is going to pop the big question. Pepper is even flying in from Chicago to be there with him. </p><p>   “-r. Stark?” </p><p>   Tony snaps out of his daze. “What?” </p><p>   “I asked if you wanted a glass?” </p><p>   Slightly embarrassed, Tony crosses his leg and looks away. “No thanks webs. All for you.” </p><p>   Peter’s response gets cut short as the segment on tv switches over to breaking news. A small woman with dark hair sits solemnly behind a desk, a video of police lights and gunshots going off behind her. “We have just received news that the malicious group known as the <em>Vipers</em> has infiltrated Union Bank in Midtown. There are no reported casualties, but thirteen hostages have been taken-” </p><p>   Tony jumps at the sound of shattered glass. Peter’s eyes are glued to the screen, hands shaking and socks becoming stained with punch. After a moment he recovers. He doesn’t acknowledge the mess. </p><p>   “Holy crap.” </p><p>   Before Tony can stop him, Peter is sprinting for his room. Tony swears colorfully and follows, making a stop in his own room along the way. He pulls open a dusty drawer in his closet and takes what’s inside, heart beating impossibly fast. </p><p>   When he gets to Peter’s room, he’s breathless. The kid is already in his suit, mask halfway up to his face. </p><p>   “Where do you think you’re going?” </p><p>   Peter stares incredulously. “What do you mean?” </p><p>   “You are <em>not</em> going after them!” </p><p>   The order falls on deaf ears and Peter tries to step past him. Feeling increasingly numb, Tony blocks the door. </p><p>   “Tony! I need to do this!” </p><p>   “No way! Last time you tried you got stabbed! They’ll <em>kill</em> you.” </p><p>   “THEY. <em>KILLED.</em> MAY!” Peter’s voice is loud and raw. Both of them have tears in their eyes. Peter is breathing heavily, face flushed red with emotion. Tony doesn’t budge. </p><p>   “Move.” </p><p>   “No.” </p><p>   “Tony MOVE!” </p><p>   “I can’t.” </p><p>   “I don’t want to hurt you!” </p><p>   Tony takes a deep breath. “Me neither.” </p><p>   Before Peter can react, Tony pulls a set of handcuffs out of his jacket and clasps one of the ends around Peter’s wrist. Using his shock against him, Tony drags Peter along by the other cuff and secures it tightly around the metal of his bed frame. The click makes them both flinch. </p><p>   “Wha- Tony?” Peter jerks on the metal, eyes widening when it doesn’t give. “<em>Vibranium?</em>” </p><p>   Slowly, Tony backs himself towards the door. The apology is on his lips, but it stays there. “Don’t pull on it. It’ll hurt you.” </p><p>   Peter looks angrier than Tony has ever seen him in his life. He tries to run at Tony and cries out when the cuff does its job, snapping him back against the bed frame. He tugs harder, fire burning in his eyes. “Let me go!” </p><p>   “I’ll be right back.” Tony is almost out. Peter’s face is streaked with tears. </p><p>   “<em>Don’t leave me here! TONY!</em>” </p><p>   “I- I’m sorry.” </p><p>   He closes the door behind him and pretends not to hear Peter’s screams. </p><p>---</p><p>   When he arrives at the scene the police part like the red sea to let him through. He pushes through the crowd and through his numb haze, hears cheering. It makes his stomach twist into knots. </p><p>   He wishes he was doing this for the right reason.</p><p>   Following FRIDAY’s advice, Tony blasts through the wall in the north-east corner of the building. Three Vipers are laying at his feet before the smoke clears. Bullets rip at his armor and Tony sends a blast that knocks two more off their feet. Within seconds, all the Vipers are horizontal. </p><p>   “Where are the hostages FRI?” </p><p>   Tony follows the AI’s directions to a back room. His entrance is coupled with gasps and some sobs of relief. One woman in particular with red hair and glasses holds Tony’s attention for a beat too long and he feels a physical pain. Pushing it to the side, Tony helps an old man with silver hair and a bow tie to his feet and supports him through the ruin. </p><p>   Paramedics meet them at the doors. Tony watches solemnly as the red haired woman races down the steps, falling into the arms of a young boy no older than ten. </p><p>   “Iron Man.” </p><p>   Tony turns. One of the Vipers he had blasted has staggered to his feet, leaning heavily against the teller’s counter and holding a small silver pistol to the side of a blonde woman’s head. There’s dark blood on the better half of his face and when he smiles, all his teeth are stained red. </p><p>   “Get out of the suit.” </p><p>   Grinding his teeth together tightly, Tony doesn’t move. Hatred burns underneath his skin like fire. “Don’t be stupid, jackass. Let her go.” </p><p>   “Get out of the suit,” the man’s repeats as he pushes the pistol farther into the woman's head. She whimpers and squeezes her eyes shut. “I’ll count to three, hm? One. Two-”</p><p>   “Jesus. Fine.” Tony steps out into the bank, the sound of his feet hitting the floor casting echoes up towards the vaulted ceilings. Police begin to fill the room behind him, guns raised at the Viper. “Now let her go.” </p><p>   “Only if the cops leave with her.” </p><p>   Sighing deeply, Tony spares a glance behind him and the woman whimpers again. Slowly, he nods. “Okay.” </p><p>   Gasping as she’s released, the woman crumples to the floor and just barely catches herself on her hands and knees. She scrabbles away towards the line of officers. Tony doesn’t watch her go. </p><p>   The Viper’s gun shifts focus to Tony. It’s a straight shot through to his forehead. “I thought the Avengers didn’t handle crap like this.” </p><p>   “What do you want?” </p><p>   “I’m leaving. You’re coming with me. When it’s safe, I’ll make sure your death is quick.” </p><p>   “How considerate.” </p><p>   The man loses his smile. His eyes are cold. “Don’t play around with me Stark.” He steps forward until Tony can smell his cologne. It makes his nose burn. The Viper pushes the mouth of his gun into Tony’s forehead. The steel makes him shiver. He thinks of Peter. “Records show that I can be a little bit <em>reckless</em>.” </p><p>   “Wait!” </p><p>   Tony closes his eyes and swears, stomach dropping all the way down to his toes. The Viper whips his head at the new voice, smiling again. “Well, well. Spider-Man. Back for another round I see. Didn’t have enough the first time?” </p><p>   Peter’s hands are raised in surrender. From one of his wrists hangs the cuff Tony had placed on him, the other end still snapped shut. He must’ve broken through the bedframe. “D-don’t shoot. Take me instead.” </p><p>   Tony can feel the pressure on his forehead slacken, even if just a little. The Viper is intrigued. “No offense spider, but Stark here is worth a lot more than you.” </p><p>   Peter takes a defiant step forward. “He’s a lot mouthier, too. I promise I’ll do everything you say. Just- just don’t shoot him. <em>Please</em>.” </p><p>   “Why do you care so much?” </p><p>   Peter swallows visibly. His eyes dart to Tony’s and for one blessed second, they connect, a thousand unspoken passing between them like an invisible channel. </p><p>   An apology. </p><p>   The Viper looks between them, changing tactics. “On second thought, it doesn’t matter. Take off the mask.” </p><p>   “Don’t listen to him webs.” </p><p>   “Take off the damn mask <em>now</em>, or Stark gets a bullet.” </p><p>   It doesn’t take any more convincing. In the next second, Peter’s wide brown eyes appear and Tony’s knees go weak. There’s a flash of recognition on the Viper’s face. “Wait. I know you.” </p><p>   “We’ve met before,” Peter says bravely. “You killed my Aunt.” </p><p>   The Viper smiles. “Ah yes. Redhead, right? Too bad I let you live. You’re not treating my gift very well.”</p><p>   “She meant <em>everything</em> to me.” </p><p>   Tony’s mouth is dry. “Kid-”  </p><p>   Peter’s hands are shaking as he raises his arm. All the oxygen in the room seems to vanish. “Now it’s your turn.”</p><p>   Time is a strange thing. </p><p>   Peter fires off a web and it seems to cut through the air in slow motion. It hits the Viper in the face, throwing him off balance, and Tony feels the gun leave his head entirely. As soon as the pressure leaves, Peter is suddenly beside him, hands on his chest and pushing him hard while kicking out at the Viper simultaneously. Tony hears the shot ring out as they fall. </p><p>   Then everything speeds up. </p><p>   The Viper is on the floor, eyes closed. Tony expects to see a ring of blood around him, but it never comes. </p><p>   He looks at Peter. </p><p>   “Christ. God. <em>No</em>.” </p><p>   Peter is laying flat on his back and grasping weakly at his side. When Tony falls to his knees beside the young hero he feels warm liquid soak through the material of his suit and tries his best through his mounting panic to hold the kid together underneath him. It’ll take hours to scrub the blood out from under his fingernails.</p><p>   “P-peter.” </p><p>   After months, Peter’s smile finally reaches his eyes. His lips are stained with crimson. “‘M okay.” </p><p>   “We’re going to get you out of here okay?” He grabs Peter’s hand and holds onto it tightly. The handcuff dangling on his wrist is stained with crimson. The restraint <em>he </em>put there. The image burns into his brain and makes him sick. </p><p>   “This is what happened to Ben,” Peter’s voice is barely a whisper. A tear falls out of the corner of the kid’s eye, followed by another. “But ‘m not scared.” </p><p>   “Paramedics!” Tony fights against the tightness in his chest. “Peter, open your eyes.” </p><p>   For once, the boy listens. “It d’sn’ hurt.” </p><p>   “Kiddo-” </p><p>   “‘M glad you’re ‘kay.”With fading strength, Peter squeezes Tony’s hand. It says what he can’t anymore. “You’re my last family.”</p><p>   “<em>Peter no</em>. I can’t lose you. I refuse. Pepper’s on her way. We were going to ask to adopt you tonight Pete. <em>Christ</em>. You can’t-” He breaks off with a shaky breath. The puddle beneath them grows wider. “Help! Please!” </p><p>   He doesn’t know if Peter hears him. He blinks slowly once, twice, then nothing. Tony refuses to believe it’s goodbye. </p><p>   Finally, the doors burst open. A team reaches them and pulls Peter out of his arms. He doesn’t hear how they react to seeing Spider-Man’s face. The static is too loud in his ears for anything. As they rush him on a stretcher, Tony grabs the paramedic closest to him by the sleeve, spotting it with crimson. “Save him.” </p><p>   The woman looks at him with a hard, calculating gaze. Her eyes are brown like Peter’s. “We’ll do all we can.” </p><p>   Someone helps him up and supports him. When they go outside, the sun blinds him. He can feel his pulse behind his eyes. Distantly, he feels himself helped into the back of the ambulance. They’re halfway to the hospital before he realizes the ambulance is moving. </p><p>   Tony doesn’t pray often. </p><p>   He prays now. </p><p>---</p><p>   It’s beeping that wakes him up. Always the beeping. </p><p>   Another stupid machine, another hospital room. Puffy eyes and salty sleeves and a dull headache that pulses in time with the ache in his heart. </p><p>   Tony doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that Peter is still asleep. Apart from the beeping, the room is quiet as death. He feels the soft medbay sheets under his cheek and realizes he’d fallen asleep over Peter like the freaking leaning tower of Pisa. </p><p>   His muscles strain and pop as he moves to sit up and sit back into his chair. His legs are numb and his throat is dry. He tries for a moment not to look at Peter, scared what the sight of the recovering boy will do to his heart. </p><p>   Eventually, he can’t prevent it any longer. </p><p>   Peter looks, for lack of a better word, dead. His face is ghostly, his entire body lax and hooked to various tubes and machines feeding him air and the drugs keeping him alive. He looks small, <em>so incredibly small. </em>Impossibly so. Tony feels his chest tighten like a rapidly deflating balloon, stealing away his oxygen. He thinks of what Peter had looked like slumped in front of four matching tombstones, broken in more ways than one. He thinks of the way Peter had looked at him at the bank, a look that had the very real possibility of being his last. </p><p>   <em>You’re my last family</em>, he had said. </p><p>   Family. </p><p>   Tony’s more sure of it now than ever before. </p><p>   “Wake up Pete,” he whispers, voice wavering. </p><p>   “Wake up.” </p><p>----</p><p>   Two days later, Peter does. </p><p>   Tony isn’t even there when it happens. He’s in the shower, scrubbing at his hands. They’re pink and raw, though no matter how many bubbles he goes through, he still feels Peter’s blood against his fingers. </p><p>   He barely hears the knock at the bathroom door. </p><p>   “Tony?” </p><p>   It’s Pepper. Tony looks away from his hands, snapping out of his daze. He can barely breathe through the thick steam. How long had he been in here? </p><p>   “Pep?” His heart is beating fast. “What’s wrong?” </p><p>   There’s a short silence and Tony grips onto the wall for support, knees weak. His mind cycles through a million possibilities. God, he should’ve never left the kid’s side-</p><p>   “He’s awake Tones. Peter’s awake.” </p><p>   This time, Tony does almost fall. He shoots his hand out to twist off the water. “W-what?” </p><p>   “He’s awake,” Pepper repeats, her voice inflated with happiness. “He’s asking for you.” </p><p>   Tony’s world spins as he stumbles out of the shower, throwing on clothes that stick to his wet skin. Pepper is waiting for him on the other side of the door, eyes widening when she sees him. “Tony, there’s still soap in your hair-”</p><p>   “It’s fine,” he says immediately. “Peter-” </p><p>   “He’s going to be okay,” Pepper assures. “Cho is looking him over as we speak.” </p><p>   “Going to be okay?” </p><p>   “Yes-” </p><p>   “Oh God.” Tony pulls her forward by the back of her neck and wraps her in a tight hug. She returns it warmly. </p><p>   “Go.” </p><p>   Tony falls away from the embrace and races towards the door. Later, he would deny that he ran. But now, well, nothing else quite matters. </p><p>    Cho is scribbling on a clipboard when Tony swings into the room, breathing hard and dripping water from his hair. She’s laughing at something and looks up when Tony appears under the doorframe. “Hello Tony.” </p><p>   “H-hi.” </p><p>   “Before you ask, he’s doing great. A star patient as usual. Should be up and out of here in no time.” </p><p>   Tony sags slightly, eyes stinging. Cho steps aside, revealing Peter behind her. He’s slumped against his pillow, eyes half mast but open all the same. Their eyes meet and Peter smiles, the tube under his nose lifting. “H-hey.” </p><p>   “Pete.” </p><p>   Cho must take it as her cue to leave. She leans down to squeeze Peter’s hand before walking past Tony and out of the room, patting him kindly on the shoulder as she does so. </p><p>    Peter looks better, but not good. His lips are chapped and he looks like he’d just spent the past week fighting off a particularly bad bout of the flu, hair mussed and clothes wrinkled. “I’m sorry,” he says. </p><p>    “What?” No matter how badly he wants to sprint over the kid, he feels rooted where he stands in the room’s entrance. Everything feels distant and quiet. </p><p>    “I’m sorry,” Peter says again softly. </p><p>   “No,” Tony rebuttals. He takes one step forward, then two. “I should be the one apologizing. I handcuffed you to your room.” </p><p>   Peter chuckles. It must hurt, because he winces. “Yeah, not your best moment.” </p><p>   “You could say that.” </p><p>   “But,” Peter says, “it was to protect me.” </p><p>   “Just like you pushing me out of the way of that bullet was to protect me,” Tony says. </p><p>   Peter shifts against the pillows, eyes reddening. “I just, after May-”</p><p>   Another step, one left, one right. </p><p>   “I know.” </p><p>   “I couldn’t lose you. I- I <em>can’t</em> lose you.” </p><p>   “Well, the feeling’s mutual.” </p><p>   Tony is at the kid’s side. He sits against the edge of the mattress, raw hands clutched tightly in his lap. </p><p>    “I remember something from before I passed out,” Peter says carefully. He’s staring at the wall. “Something you said.” </p><p>   Pulse jumping, Tony nods. The cocktail of anxiety and relief has left him lightheaded. “We- we had this big thing planned out. But I guess I ruined the surprise.” He pauses and the entire universe seems to slow. “Pep and I want to adopt you Pete. I know it’s soon, but you know if, if you want- we’d love nothing more in the world.” </p><p>   Something fills the room like electricity. Tony feels his mind short circuit as tears leak out of Peter’s eyes. “You’re sure?” </p><p>   “<em>Yes</em> Pete. More than anything.” </p><p>   The next moment, their hugging. Tony feels tears of his own spill over onto his face as he clutches onto the kid with all his might. “I’ll take that as a yes?” </p><p>   “Yeah,” Peter breathes. “Yes.” </p><p>   And just like that, Tony’s orbit completes itself. It’s something he hadn’t known he’d needed so badly until now. Peter. The kid. <em>His </em>kid. Their son. </p><p>   “Tony?” </p><p>   “Y-yeah kiddo?” </p><p>   “You have bubbles in your hair.” </p><p>   Tony chokes on a laugh and holds the boy tighter. “Shut up and let me enjoy the moment.” </p><p>   He can’t see the kid’s face, but he knows he’s smiling. </p><p>   For now, for today, they’re alright. </p><p>   They’re family. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>LOVE YOU ALL! Thanks always for the support and love. It means the world &lt;33 Find me on tumblr @polaroid15 :) Until next time!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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